Page 44 of Captiva Café

"I think she's running from something," Maggie said quietly. "Or someone."

"Like a bad relationship?" Lauren asked, her voice a little too casual.

Maggie tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe. She had a strange reaction when I suggested she play her music for others. Almost panicked. As if she wasn't permitted to share that part of herself."

"Controlling partners can do that," Sarah said, her expression darkening. "Cut you off from the things that make you who you are."

Lauren nodded solemnly. "And Maine is a long way from here. Maybe she needed that distance."

"Whatever it is," Maggie said, "the island seems to be helping. I've noticed her spending more time on the beach, playing her guitar. Iris said she even asked about local music venues this morning, but she’s booked at the inn for only a few more days. After that, I don’t have a room available for her. She’s going to have to make a decision about staying on Captiva or moving on."

A small sailboat tacked across the horizon, its white sail bright against the blue water. A child's laughter floated down the beach from where a family was building an elaborate sand castle. The ordinary beauty of the afternoon stood in stark contrast to the undercurrents of their conversation—Merritt's mysterious past, Lauren's hidden tensions, the constant dance of family ties stretching and contracting across distance and time.

"You know," Maggie said, watching Lauren's profile as she gazed out at the water, "the inn gets chaotic and I get overwhelmed, but I'm always here for you, Lauren. For all of you. If you ever need to talk, or just sit quietly, or escape for a few hours..."

Lauren turned, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes for just a moment before her usual composure returned. "I know, Mom. I'm fine, really. Just adjusting to the new rhythmof things. A new house, new schools for the girls." She shrugged. "Normal transition stuff."

Maggie nodded, not pushing. Lauren had always been her most private child, holding things close until she was ready to share them. Whatever was happening in her marriage, in her new life in Sarasota, would emerge in its own time. For now, it was enough to be present, to leave the door open.

"Let's see if those little toes like the water," Maggie suggested, eyeing her grandson with a mischievous smile. “Just think of it as a very large bathtub.”

Lauren hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Just don't tell Jeff. He'll want photographic evidence that he witnessed every 'first' in Daniel's life."

"My lips are sealed," Maggie promised. "Sarah?"

"Are you kidding? I live for this kind of family scandal." Sarah grinned, already helping Lauren gather Daniel into her arms.

Together, the three women made their way to the water's edge, leaving footprints of varying sizes in the damp sand. As Daniel's toes touched the water for the first time, his surprised expression giving way to delight, Maggie watched Lauren's face transform with simple joy. Whatever shadows haunted her daughter's new life, this moment contained pure happiness—the kind that could sustain a person through darker hours.

Maggie made a silent resolution to pay closer attention, to create more opportunities for these beachside conversations. Lauren might not be ready to confide in her yet, but when she was, Maggie would be there—pastries in hand, heart open, ready to listen.

"Look at him!" Lauren exclaimed as Daniel kicked at the shallow water, sending up tiny splashes. "He's a natural! Just like his mother."

"Just like his grandmother, you mean," Maggie corrected with a grin. "Who taught you to swim, after all?"

"I taught myself, thank you very much," Lauren retorted, the familiar banter flowing easily now. "You were too busy holding the towel and yelling 'Not so deep!'"

"That's a mother's job." Maggie laughed. "To worry just the right amount—enough to keep you safe, not so much that you never try the water."

Lauren's eyes met hers, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. They were talking about more than swimming lessons now.

"I'm trying to find that balance with Olivia," Lauren admitted softly. "Between pushing and protecting."

"You will," Maggie assured her, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You know her heart better than anyone. Trust that."

Lauren nodded, something settling in her expression. "Thanks, Mom."

Sarah, who had been documenting Daniel's first ocean experience with her phone, rejoined them. "So, are we going to finish those pastries or what? Because the seagulls are getting ideas."

Sure enough, a small flock had gathered near their blanket, eyeing the open box with brazen interest.

"We better hustle," Maggie said, turning back toward their spot. "I did not drive all the way here just to feed the local wildlife."

As they walked back up the beach, Lauren slipped her free arm through Maggie's, leaning in slightly. "I'm glad you came, Mom."

"Me too, sweetheart," Maggie replied, squeezing her daughter's arm. "Me too."

The afternoon stretched before them, golden and unhurried. The inn would still be there when Maggie returned. The guests would still need attention, the rooms would still need cleaning, the breakfast menu would still need planning. But this moment—these moments with her family—these were the true treasures of her life.

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